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The River War

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The news was startling. The small force were 125 miles from their base;
behind them lay an almost waterless country, and in front was a powerful
enemy. An informal council of war was held. The Sirdar had distinctly
ordered that, whatever happened, there was to be no waiting; the troops
were either to attack or retire. Colonel Kitchener decided to retire.
The decision having been taken, the next step was to get beyond the enemy's
reach as quickly as possible, and the force began their retreat on the same
night. The homeward march was not less long and trying than the advance,
and neither hopes of distinction nor glamour of excitement cheered the
weary soldiers. As they toiled gloomily back towards the Nile, the horror
of the accursed land grew upon all. Hideous spectacles of human misery
were added to the desolation of the hot, thorny scrub and stinking pools
of mud. The starving inhabitants had been lured from their holes and
corners by the outward passage of the troops, and hoped to snatch some food
from the field of battle. Disappointed, they now approached the camps at
night in twos and threes, making piteous entreaties for any kind of
nourishment. Their appeals were perforce unregarded; not an ounce
of spare food remained.

Towards the end of the journey the camels, terribly strained by their
privation of water, began to die, and it was evident that the force would
have no time to spare. One young camel, though not apparently exhausted,
refused to proceed, and even when a fire was lighted round him remained
stubborn and motionless; so that, after being terribly scorched, he had
to be shot. Others fell and died all along the route. Their deaths brought
some relief to the starving inhabitants. For as each animal was left behind,
the officers, looking back, might see first one, then another furtive
figure emerge from the bush and pounce on the body like a vulture;
and in many cases before life was extinct the famished natives
were devouring the flesh.

On the 5th of February the column reached Kohi, and the Kordofan
Field Force, having overcome many difficulties and suffered many hardships,
was broken up, unsuccessful through no fault of its commander,
its officers, or its men.

For nearly a year no further operations were undertaken against
the Khalifa, and he remained all through the spring and summer of 1899
supreme in Kordofan, reorganising his adherents and plundering the country
--a chronic danger to the new Government, a curse to the local inhabitants,
and a most serious element of unrest. The barren and almost waterless
regions into which he had withdrawn presented very difficult obstacles to
any military expedition, and although powerful forces were still
concentrated at Khartoum, the dry season and the uncertain whereabouts
of the enemy prevented action. But towards the end of August trustworthy
information was received by the Intelligence Department, through the agency
of friendly tribesmen, that the Khalifa, with all his army, was encamped
at Jebel Gedir--that same mountain in Southern Kordofan to which nearly
twenty years before he and the Mahdi had retreated after the flight from
Abba Island. Here among old memories which his presence revived he became
at once a centre of fanaticism. Night after night he slept upon
the Mahdi's stone; and day after day tales of his dreams were carried
by secret emissaries not only throughout the Western Soudan, but into the
Ghezira and even to Khartoum. And now, his position being definite and his
action highly dangerous, it was decided to move against him.

On the 13th of October the first Soudanese battalion was despatched
in steamers from Khartoum, and by the 19th a force of some 7,000 men,
well equipped with camel transport, was concentrated at Kaka, a village on
the White Nile not far north of Fashoda. The distance from here to Jebel
Gedir was about eighty miles, and as for the first fifty no water existed;
the whole supply had to be carried in tanks. Sir Reginald Wingate, who was
in command of the infantry, reached Fungor, thirty miles from the enemy's
position, with the two leading battalions (IXth and Xth Soudanese) on
the 23rd of October, only to find news that the Khalifa had left his camp
at Jebel Gedir on the 18th and had receded indefinitely into the desert.
The cast having failed, and further progress involving a multiplication of
difficulties, Lord Kitchener, who was at Kaka, stopped the operations,
and the whole of the troops returned to Khartoum, which they reached
in much vexation and disappointment on the 1st of November.

It was at first universally believed that the Khalifa's intention
was to retire to an almost inaccessible distance--to El Obeid or Southern
Darfur--and the officers of the Egyptian army passed an unhappy fortnight
reading the Ladysmith telegrams and accusing their evil fortune which kept
them so far from the scene of action. But soon strange rumours began to
run about the bazaars of Omdurman of buried weapons and whispers of revolt.
For a few days a vague feeling of unrest pervaded the native city,
and then suddenly on the 12th of November came precise and surprising news.
The Khalifa was not retreating to the south or to the west, but advancing
northward with Omdurman, not El Obeid, as his object. Emboldened by the
spectacle of two successive expeditions retreating abortive, and by,
who shall say what wild exaggerated tales of disasters to the Turks far
beyond the limits of the Soudan, Abdullah had resolved to stake all that
yet remained to him in one last desperate attempt to recapture his former
capital; and so, upon the 12th of November, his advanced guard, under the
Emir Ahmed Fedil, struck the Nile opposite Abba Island, and audaciously
fired volleys of musketry at the gunboat Sultan which was patrolling
the river.

The name of Abba Island may perhaps carry the reader back to the very
beginning of this story. Here, eighteen years before, the Mahdi had lived
and prayed after his quarrel with the haughty Sheikh; here Abdullah had
joined him; here the flag of the revolt had been set up, and the first
defeat had been inflicted upon the Egyptian troops; and here, too,
still dwelt--dwells, indeed, to this day--one of those same brothers who
had pursued through all the vicissitudes and convulsions which had shaken
the Soudan his humble industry of building wooden boats. It is surely a
curious instance of the occasional symmetry of history that final
destruction should have befallen the last remains of the Mahdist movement
so close to the scene of its origin!

The news which had reached Khartoum set all wheels in motion.
The IXth and XIIIth Soudanese Battalions were mobilised on the 13th of
November and despatched at once to Abba Island under Colonel Lewis.
Kitchener hurried south from Cairo, and arrived in Khartoum on the 18th.
A field force of some 2,300 troops--one troop of cavalry, the 2nd Field
Battery, the 1st Maxim Battery, the Camel Corps, IXth Soudanese, XIIIth
Soudanese, and one company 2nd Egyptians--was immediately formed, and the
command entrusted to Sir Reginald Wingate. There were besides some 900 Arab
riflemen and a few irregular mounted scouts. On the 20th these troops were
concentrated at Fashi Shoya, whence Colonel Lewis had obliged Ahmed Fedil
to withdraw, and at 3.30 on the afternoon of the 21st the expedition
started in a south-westerly direction upon the track of the enemy.

The troops bivouacked some ten miles south-west of Fashi Shoya,
and then marched in bright moonlight to Nefisa, encountering only a
Dervish patrol of about ten men. At Nefisa was found the evacuated camp
of Ahmed Fedil, containing a quantity of grain which he had collected
from the riverain district, and, what was of more value, a sick but
intelligent Dervish who stated that the Emir had just moved to Abu Aadel,
five miles further on. This information was soon confirmed by Mahmud
Hussein, an Egyptian officer, who with an irregular patrol advanced boldly
in reconnaissance. The infantry needed a short rest to eat a little food,
and Sir Reginald Wingate ordered Colonel Mahon to press on immediately
with the whole of the mounted troops and engage the enemy, so as to prevent
him retreating before an action could be forced.

Accordingly cavalry, Camel Corps, Maxims, and irregulars--whose fleetness
of foot enabled them, though not mounted, to keep pace with the rest--
set off at their best pace: and after them at 9.15 hurried the infantry,
refreshed by a drink at the water tanks and a hasty meal. As they advanced
the scrub became denser, and all were in broken and obstructed ground when,
at about ten o'clock, the sound of Maxim firing and the patter of musketry
proclaimed that Mahon had come into contact. The firing soon became more
rapid, and as the infantry approached it was evident that the mounted
troops were briskly engaged. The position which they occupied was a low
ridge which rose a little above the level of the plain and was
comparatively bare of scrub; from this it was possible at a distance of
800 yards to overlook the Dervish encampment huddled around the water pools.
It was immediately evident that the infantry and the battery were arriving
none too soon. The Dervishes, who had hitherto contented themselves with
maintaining a ragged and desultory fire from the scrub, now sallied forth
into the open and delivered a most bold and determined charge upon the guns.
The intervening space was little more than 200 yards, and for a moment
the attack looked as if it might succeed. But upon the instant the IXth and
XIIIth Soudanese, who had been doubled steadily for upwards of two miles,
came into line, filling the gap between Mahon's guns and dismounted Camel
Corps and the irregular riflemen; and so the converging fire of the whole
force was brought to bear upon the enemy--now completely beaten and
demoralised. Two Dervishes, brothers, bound together hand and foot,
perished in valiant comradeship ninety-five paces from the line of guns.
Many were slain, and the remainder fled. The whole Egyptian line now
advanced upon the encampment hard upon the tracks of the retreating enemy,
who were seen emerging from the scrub on to a grassy plain more than a
mile away, across which and further for a distance of five miles they were
pursued by the cavalry and the Camel Corps. Three hundred and twenty
corpses were counted, and at least an equal number must have been wounded.
Ahmed Fedil and one or two of his principal Emirs escaped to the southward
and to the Khalifa. The Egyptian loss amounted to five men wounded.
The troops bivouacked in square formation, at about four o'clock,
near the scene of action.

A question of considerable difficulty and some anxiety now arose.
It was learned from the prisoners that the Khalifa, with about 5,000
fighting men, was moving northwards towards the wells of Gedid, of which
we have already heard in the Shirkela reconnaissance, and which were some
twenty-five miles from the scene of the fight. The troops were already
fatigued by their severe exertions. The water pool was so foul that even
the thirsty camels refused to drink of it, and moreover scarcely any water
remained in the tanks. It was therefore of vital importance to reach the
wells of Gedid. But supposing exhausted troops famishing for water reached
them only to be confronted by a powerful Dervish force already
in possession! Sir Reginald Wingate decided, however, to face the risk,
and at a few minutes before midnight the column set out again on its road.
The ground was broken; the night was sultry: and as the hours passed by
the sufferings of the infantry began to be most acute. Many piteous appeals
were made for water. All had perforce to be refused by the commander,
who dared not diminish by a mouthful his slender store until he knew the
true situation at Gedid. In these circumstances the infantry, in spite of
their admirable patience, became very restive. Many men fell exhausted to
the ground; and it was with a feeling of immense relief that at nine
o'clock on the morning of the 24th news was received from the cavalry
that the wells had been occupied by them without opposition. All the water
in the tanks was at once distributed, and thus refreshed the infantry
struggled on and settled down at midday around a fine pool of
comparatively pure water.

At Gedid, as at Nefisa, a single Dervish, and this time a sullen fellow,
was captured, and from him it was learned that the Khalifa's army was
encamped seven miles to the south-east. It was now clear that his position
was strategically most unfavourable. His route to the north was barred;
his retreat to the south lay through waterless and densely wooded
districts; and as the seizure of the grain supplies which had resulted from
Fedil's foraging excursions rendered his advance or retirement a matter of
difficulty, it seemed probable he would stand. Wingate, therefore, decided
to attack him at dawn. Leaving the transport under guard by the water with
instructions to follow at four o'clock, the troops moved off at midnight,
screened in front at a distance of half a mile by the cavalry and their
flanks protected by the Camel Corps. The road was in places so thickly
wooded that a path had to be cut by the infantry pioneers and the artillery.
At three o'clock, when about three miles from the enemy's position,
the force was deployed into fighting formation. The irregular riflemen
covered the front; behind them the XIIIth and IXth Soudanese; and behind
these, again, the Maxims and the artillery were disposed. Cautiously and
silently the advance was resumed, and now in the distance the beating of
war drums and the long booming note of the Khalifa's horn broke on the
stillness, proclaiming that the enemy were not unprepared. At a few minutes
before four o'clock another low ridge, also comparatively bare of scrub,
was reached and occupied as a position. The cavalry were now withdrawn from
the front, a few infantry picquets were thrown out, and the rest of the
force lay down in the long grass of the little ridge and waited
for daylight.

After about an hour the sky to the eastward began to grow paler with the
promise of the morning and in the indistinct light the picquets could be
seen creeping gradually in; while behind them along the line of the trees
faint white figures, barely distinguishable, began to accumulate.
Sir Reginald Wingate, fearing lest a sudden rush should be made upon him,
now ordered the whole force to stand up and open fire; and forthwith,
in sudden contrast to the silence and obscurity, a loud crackling fusillade
began. It was immediately answered. The enemy's fire flickered along a wide
half-circle and developed continually with greater vigour opposite the
Egyptian left, which was consequently reinforced. As the light improved,
large bodies of shouting Dervishes were seen advancing; but the fire was
too hot, and their Emirs were unable to lead them far beyond the edge of
the wood. So soon as this was perceived Wingate ordered a general advance;
and the whole force, moving at a rapid pace down the gentle slope,
drove the enemy through the trees into the camp about a mile and a half
away. Here, huddled together under their straw shelters, 6,000 women and
children were collected, all of whom, with many unwounded combatants,
made signals of surrender and appeals for mercy. The 'cease fire' was
sounded at half-past six. Then, and not till then, was it discovered how
severe the loss of the Dervishes had been. It seemed to the officers that,
short as was the range, the effect of rifle fire under such unsatisfactory
conditions of light could not have been very great. But the bodies thickly
scattered in the scrub were convincing evidences. In one space not much
more than a score of yards square lay all the most famous Emirs of the once
far-reaching Dervish domination. The Khalifa Abdullah, pierced by several
balls, was stretched dead on his sheepskin; on his right lay Ali-Wad-Helu,
on his left Ahmed Fedil. Before them was a line of lifeless bodyguards;
behind them a score of less important chiefs; and behind these, again,
a litter of killed and wounded horses. Such was the grim spectacle which
in the first light of the morning met the eyes of the British officers,
to some of whom it meant the conclusion of a perilous task prolonged over
many years. And while they looked in astonishment not unmingled with awe,
there scrambled unhurt from under a heap of bodies the little Emir Yunes,
of Dongola, who added the few links necessary to complete the chain.

At Omdurman Abdullah had remained mounted behind the hill of Surgham,
but in this his last fight he had set himself in the forefront of the
battle. Almost at the first discharge, his son Osman, the Sheikh-ed-Din,
was wounded, and as he was carried away he urged the Khalifa to save
himself by flight; but the latter, with a dramatic dignity sometimes
denied to more civilised warriors, refused. Dismounting from his horse,
and ordering his Emirs to imitate him, he seated himself on his sheepskin
and there determined to await the worst of fortune. And so it came to pass
that in this last scene in the struggle with Mahdism the stage was cleared
of all its striking characters, and Osman Digna alone purchased by flight
a brief ignoble liberty, soon to be followed by a long ignoble servitude.

Twenty-nine Emirs, 3,000 fighting men, 6,000 women and children
surrendered themselves prisoners. The Egyptian losses were three killed
and twenty-three wounded.

. . . . . . . . . .

The long story now approaches its conclusion. The River War is over.
In its varied course, which extended over fourteen years and involved the
untimely destruction of perhaps 300,000 lives, many extremes and contrasts
have been displayed. There have been battles which were massacres,
and others that were mere parades. There have been occasions of shocking
cowardice and surprising heroism, of plans conceived in haste and emergency,
of schemes laid with slow deliberation, of wild extravagance and cruel
waste, of economies scarcely less barbarous, of wisdom and incompetence.
But the result is at length achieved, and the flags of England and Egypt
wave unchallenged over the valley of the Nile.

At what cost were such advantages obtained? The reader must judge
for himself of the loss in men; yet while he deplores the deaths of brave
officers and soldiers, and no less the appalling destruction of the valiant
Arabs, he should remember that such slaughter is inseparable from war,
and that, if the war be justified, the loss of life cannot be accused.
But I write of the cost in money, and the economy of the campaigns cannot
be better displayed than by the table below:

Railway: £E 1,181,372
Telegraph: £E 21,825
Gunboats: £E 154,934
Military Expenditure: £E 996,223
TOTAL EXPENDITURES: £E 2,354,354 (£E1 = £1 0s.6d.)

For something less than two and a half millions sterling active military
operations were carried on for nearly three years, involving the employment
--far from its base--of an army of 25,000 disciplined troops, including an
expensive British contingent of 8,000 men, and ending in the utter defeat
of an enemy whose armed forces numbered at the beginning of the war upwards
of 80,000 soldiers, and the reconquest and re-occupation of a territory
measuring sixteen hundred miles from north to south and twelve hundred
from east to west [Lieut.-Colonel Stewart's Report: Egypt, No.11, 1883],
which at one time supported at least twenty millions of inhabitants.
But this is not all. Of the total £E2,354,354 only £E996,223 can be
accounted as military expenditure. For the remaining £E1,358,131 Egypt
possesses 500 miles of railway, 900 miles of telegraph, and a flotilla of
steamers. The railway will not, indeed, pay a great return upon the capital
invested, but it will immediately pay something, and may ultimately
pay much. The telegraph is as necessary as the railway to the development
of the country; it costs far less, and, when the Egyptian system is
connected with the South African, it will be a sure source of revenue.
Lastly, there are the gunboats. The reader cannot have any doubts as to the
value of these vessels during the war. Never was money better spent on
military plant. Now that the river operations are over the gunboats
discharge the duties of ordinary steamers; and although they are,
of course, expensive machines for goods and passenger traffic, they are
by no means inefficient. The movement of the troops, their extra pay,
the supplies at the end of a long line of communications, the ammunition,
the loss by wear and tear of uniforms and accoutrements,
the correspondence, the rewards, all cost together less than a million
sterling; and for that million Egypt has recovered the Soudan.

The whole £E2,354,354 had, however, to be paid during the campaigns.
Towards this sum Great Britain advanced, as has been related, £800,000
as a loan; and this was subsequently converted into a gift. The cost to the
British taxpayer of the recovery and part acquisition of the Soudan,
of the military prestige, and of the indulgence of the sentiment known as
'the avenging of Gordon' has therefore been £800,000; and it may be stated
in all seriousness that English history does not record any instance of so
great a national satisfaction being more cheaply obtained. The rest of the
money has been provided by Egypt; and this strange country, seeming to
resemble the camel, on which so much of her wealth depends, has,
in default of the usual sources of supply, drawn upon some fifth stomach
for nourishment, and, to the perplexity even of those best acquainted with
her amazing financial constitution, has stood the strain.

'The extraordinary expenditure in connection with the Soudan campaign,'
wrote Mr. J.L. Gorst, the Financial Adviser to the Khedive in his Note of
December 20, 1898 [Note by the Financial Adviser on the Budget of 1899:
EGYPT, No. 3, 1899], 'has been charged to the Special Reserve Fund.
At the present moment this fund shows a deficit of £E336,000, and there are
outstanding charges on account of the expedition amounting to £E330,000,
making a total deficit of £E666,000.'

'On the other hand, the fund will be increased, when the accounts
of the year are made up, by a sum of £E382,000, being the balance of
the share of the Government in the surplus of 1898, after deduction of
the excess administrative expenditure in that year, and by a sum of
£E90,000, being part of the proceeds of the sale of the Khedivial postal
steamers. The net deficit will, therefore, be £E194,000; and if the year
1899 is as prosperous as the present year, it may be hoped that the deficit
will disappear when the accounts of 1899 are closed.'

A great, though perhaps academic, issue remains: Was the war justified
by wisdom and by right?

If the reader will look at a map of the Nile system, he cannot fail
to be struck by its resemblance to a palm-tree. At the top the green and
fertile area of the Delta spreads like the graceful leaves and foliage.
The stem is perhaps a little twisted, for the Nile makes a vast bend
in flowing through the desert. South of Khartoum the likeness is again
perfect, and the roots of the tree begin to stretch deeply into the Soudan.
I can imagine no better illustration of the intimate and sympathetic
connection between Egypt and the southern provinces. The water--the life
of the Delta--is drawn from the Soudan, and passes along the channel of
the Nile, as the sap passes up the stem of the tree, to produce a fine crop
of fruit above. The benefit to Egypt is obvious; but Egypt does not benefit
alone. The advantages of the connection are mutual; for if the Soudan
is thus naturally and geographically an integral part of Egypt,
Egypt is no less essential to the development of the Soudan. Of what use
would the roots and the rich soil be, if the stem were severed, by which
alone their vital essence may find expression in the upper air?

Here, then, is a plain and honest reason for the River War.
To unite territories that could not indefinitely have continued divided;
to combine peoples whose future welfare is inseparably intermingled;
to collect energies which, concentrated, may promote a common interest;
to join together what could not improve apart--these are the objects which,
history will pronounce, have justified the enterprise.

The advantage to Great Britain is no less clear to those who believe
that our connection with Egypt, as with India, is in itself a source of
strength. The grasp of England upon Egypt has been strengthened twofold by
the events of the war. The joint action and ownership of the two countries
in the basin of the Upper Nile form an additional bond between them.
The command of the vital river is an irresistible weapon. The influence of
France over the native mind in Egypt has been completely destroyed by the
result of the Fashoda negotiations; and although she still retains the
legal power to meddle in and obstruct all financial arrangements,
that power, unsupported by real influence, is like a body whence the soul
has fled, which may, indeed, be an offensive encumbrance,
but must ultimately decompose and crumble into dust.

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